


That Dear Octopus

by ThistleOfLiberty



Series: Not Flesh and Blood Series [6]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Divorce, Episode Tag, Families of Choice, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 00:56:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThistleOfLiberty/pseuds/ThistleOfLiberty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tag to 3x14 "Damaged". Hotch is, quite abruptly, reminded of Rossi's role in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Dear Octopus

**Author's Note:**

> The family - that dear octopus from whose tentacles we never quite escape, nor, in our inmost hearts, ever quite wish to.
> 
> Dodie Smith, British novelist and playwright
> 
>  
> 
>  

"You know, Hotch, I could get used to this whole team thing."

Rossi sounded genuinely thoughtful, not somewhat disdainful like he usually was about the idea of being part of a team. Raising his eyebrows, Hotch looked up from his glass of whiskey.

"Really?" he prompted. Rossi nodded, taking a small sip from his own glass before he answered.

"Yeah. As much as I'd like to think differently, I wouldn't have solved this case without them."

Hotch nodded. He'd been informed about the Galen case and as team leader he was happy at the chance for strengthening the bonds between his mentor and his team it had provided. Because as much as he respected and admired Rossi, his team had to come first and it would function much better if Rossi learned to trust them.

As a friend, he was equally happy. All profilers had demons and the opportunity to put some at rest was good for anyone of them. That the Galen case had had, from what Hotch had understood, a prominent position amongst Rossi's nightmares only made it better.

"They're good," Hotch said; half a statement of fact and half a challenge to the older man, because he still wasn't entirely sure what Rossi thought of his team. He knew Rossi respected them professionally and as individuals, but that was the case with most of the agents in the Bureau; Hotch wanted Rossi to respect the team as almost-equals and profilers.

"Yes, they are," Rossi agreed and the complete sincerity of his tone was enough to assure Hotch that whatever doubts Rossi had had about the whole team-thing had been laid to rest by them helping bury his demons, "Almost as good as you."

Hotch's collar suddenly felt uncomfortably tight and with a small smile he directed his gaze to his feet. In a way, it was embarrassing how much a compliment from Rossi still meant to him; as a unit chief he should be past craving the praise of his old mentor, but unfortunately his emotions didn't agree and he still felt ridiculously pleased whenever Rossi expressed his approval.

However, it was still uncomfortable to dwell on the praise and Hotch swiftly changed the subject. "I'd say that on this just interview, Reid was considerably better than I was."

Rossi raised his eyebrow. "Really?"

With a self-conscious grimace, Hotch nodded. His behavior had been far from exemplary and even though he was pretty sure he could have taken Hardwick, he should never have antagonized the man. It was textbook and even if Hotch might have felt justified in picking a fight if he'd been alone it was inexcusable with Reid in the room. He had an obligation to protect the younger man, and drawing and UnSub into a fight in closed quarters wasn't exactly the best way of doing that.

"Yeah, I was stupid…" he muttered, "I… well, suffice to say I think Reid probably saved me some pretty bruised knuckles."

Rossi's eyebrows climbed even higher and he tilted his head in a familiar inquisitive motion. "Tell me," he ordered.

Hotch frowned. This sounded very much like ten years ago and Hotch didn't like it at all. Because even though he had acted foolishly, that was his problem and not Rossi's. He was no longer a rookie who needed someone to keep him in line and tell him what to do; he was team leader.

Which unfortunately didn't change the fact that Rossi's stern voice still made him want to fidget and make excuses for what he'd done. But that was unacceptable and needing to get away from that feeling, Hotch glared in what he hoped was a forbidding fashion at Rossi.

"I don't think that's necessary," he said, hoping Rossi would catch, and heed, the finality of his tone. But of course, he didn't.

"I wasn't asking what you thought, I was telling you to tell me what the hell you're talking about."

"Dave…" Hotch began, his frown deepening, "You do realize that I'm your boss? You can't tell me what to do."

That, it seemed, was the wrong thing to say, if Rossi's disapproving frown and crossed arms was anything to go by.

"Are you pulling rank on me, young man?" he demanded sternly and whatever sense of self-preparation Hotch had kicked in. Because the tone of Rossi's voice was enough to tell him that he'd crossed some sort of line and the fact that Rossi had actually called him "young man" he didn't even want to reflect on. Because "young man" was right up there with the use of his full name on the scale of how annoyed Rossi was. Probably even worse.

"Uh… no?" he immediately backtracked, because unit chief or not he knew when it was wiser to back down.

"Sure sounded like it," Rossi said evenly, arms still crossed and a stern glare still trained on Hotch. And despite probably knowing better, Hotch glared right back. Because he'd admitted defeat, given Rossi what he wanted; now they should move on. Away from the part where the older man made him feel like a ten year old.

"Well," he said, "I _do_ outrank you."

Rossi nodded in mock thoughtfulness. "Really?" he drawled. Hotch hesitated, because that kind of seemingly genuine questions from Rossi were never good, but then he decided that he might as well continue. It wasn't as if Rossi could do anything to him.

"Yes," he said, trying to swallow down the nervousness that annoyingly enough was stopping him from speaking properly. As much as he'd like to pretend he was firmly in charge of the situation, the fact that his old mentor's voice still made him want to mumble excuses made that difficult and the only way to counteract that was going on the offensive.

Studying him as if he was some sort of interesting art work, Rossi nodded thoughtfully, brows drawn together. Hotch, unsure what the older man found so interesting and a bit flustered at not being answered, lost some of his aggressiveness and just gave Rossi an inquiring look, whose expression changed abruptly into one of sternness in response.

He pointed to the floor in front of him. "Come here."

Guessing his mentor's intention and not at all liking where this was going, Hotch pulled back slightly. "No," he blurted out. Rossi raised an eyebrow.

"No?"

Things weren't exactly getting any better, Hotch reflected. The repetition of his own answer, infused with enough incredulousness to let Hotch know that what he'd said had been something momentously stupid, was never a good sign. And since hostility hadn't yielded any results so far, except an even more annoyed Rossi, Hotch yielded.

"I mean…" he stuttered, "No thanks?"

"Aaron."

As much as he hated it and especially hated admitting it to himself, that tone of voice still affected Hotch and knowing all too well what usually followed on it, Hotch decided that this definitely wasn't the time to push his luck any further and hurriedly got out of his seat to stand in front of Rossi.

And even if he sort of had expected it, Rossi pulling him down over his lap surprised him and left him struggling to get a grip on his bearings for a moment; long enough for the first stinging swat that Rossi landed to make him yelp. It had been years since he'd last been in this position and he realized, with some lamentation, that he had forgotten how much it hurt.

"Dave!" he demanded, but unfortunately his voice refused to sound as its usual commanding self, "Let me go!"

It was a rather ridiculous demand, he realized as soon as he'd made it, because the older man wasn't really holding him down; the hand on his back was heavy, but far from restraining. He could get up if he wanted to, and even if Rossi _had_ been holding down he was pretty sure the man wasn't strong enough to hold him down these days. But still.

"No," Rossi replied simply. For a moment Hotch was silent, considering his options. He could just get up, he supposed, but… Well, he wasn't sure why, but it didn't seem like a viable option. So he settled for demanding again.

"I'm serious, Dave!" he said, "This isn't – ow! Stop it!"

Unfortunately, Hotch's voice didn't sound like he wanted it to; more of a whine than an order. Not that it made much difference since Rossi probably wouldn't have listened to him no matter how commanding he sounded.

"No," was all Rossi said, again, and Hotch balled his hands into fist in frustration at the answer, fighting the urge to kick his foot against the sofa. For a moment the room was silent apart from the sound of brisk swats; Hotch too flustered to say anything and Rossi probably waiting until Hotch was beginning to feel the effects of the spanking before saying whatever he wanted to say.

It didn't take long.

"So, are you gonna be good and tell me what you did?" Rossi asked.

"No!" Hotch snapped back. Because he shouldn't have to. Or more accurately, Rossi shouldn't make him feel like he had to. It wasn't that Hotch thought he was immune from making mistakes, or even exempt from having to pay for them, but it shouldn't be like this. He wasn't a kid and Rossi wasn't even his boss anymore.

"No?" Rossi repeated, "Bad answer, Aaron."

"Damn it, Dave!" was Hotch's only reply, "I'm serious!"

"I'm sure you are. So am I. _Very_ serious."

Rossi emphasized just how serious he was by hardening his swats and Hotch involuntarily yelped slightly as a swat landed on the top of his thigh; stinging considerably even through his pants.

"Now, do you want to tell me why I get to do this?"

Hotch frowned, shifting his position slightly in an attempt to glare at the older man. It didn't work and in yet another attempt to regain some of his dignity Hotch resolved to remain stoically silent.

"I'll take that as a no," Rossi said, "So I guess I'll have to tell you. It's because I _care_ , Aaron."

Not knowing quite how to respond to that, Hotch stilled. He knew Rossi cared; he'd made that clear several years ago. But he had some difficulty understanding how that applied to the current situation.

"I care too damn much to let you do stupid things," Rossi continued, his voice still stern, "I don't give a damn whether you're unit chief or the freakin' president. All right? I. Care. About. You."

Each word was accompanied by a hard smack, all in the same place, and by the fourth word Hotch couldn't help but pound his fist slightly against the sofa. Because it hurt and with the effort not to show any other more obvious signs of his distress that was the only outlet he could find.

"Are you listening to me, Aaron?"

"Yes!"

"And do you get what I'm saying?"

Hotch sort of wanted to deny that he did; wanted to say that Rossi was being ridiculous and deny that what he was saying, coupled with the spanking, was very close to bringing tears to Hotch's eyes. But he was beginning to lose some of the wish for defiance that he'd had earlier, beginning to slip into the old familiar role of submitting when Rossi used that tone of voice.

"All right!" he snapped, because even though he was feeling compliant he was still angry that Rossi was doing this and, mostly really, angry that Rossi was making him feel like this, "I get it. You can stop now!"

"Not with that attitude," Rossi replied, and the next few smacks were all targeted to the top of Hotch's thighs, causing him to twist slightly to get away from the stinging swats and consequently for Rossi to tighten his arm around Hotch's waist into a real grip. "Lose it."

Clenching his fists tighter as Rossi's hand kept hitting the same sensitive spot, Hotch considered his options. He could move away from the position he was in. He was pretty sure Rossi wouldn't hate him for it. Things would be tense, of course, but it would work out. Eventually. Rossi had to understand that as his boss, Hotch wasn't really subject to his disapproval. Or at least shouldn't be.

But the fact that Rossi could still make him want to shuffle his feet and ask for forgiveness and that in all the years he'd known him, Rossi had never once punished him without Hotch being in the wrong and realizing it made it hard to pretend that Hotch didn't actually feel that Rossi did have the right to do this; did have the right to call Hotch on his actions and set consequences for them.

So he went for the second option; allowing the part of him that wanted to admit that he knew that Rossi was right and just do as he was told, hoping that that would end Rossi's disapproval and that he would be forgiven. And that Rossi would never feel he needed to do this to him again.

"All right, I get it," Hotch said, this time completely sincere, "I'm sorry. I'll tell you. Just… please stop."

"No more attitude?" Rossi asked, to Hotch's relief stopping the spanking and instead just resting his hand on Hotch's thigh.

"No more attitude," Hotch agreed, his cheeks heating at the admission. He was unit chief of an elite FBI team, for God's sake; he didn't have an "attitude".

"You'll do as you're told?"

"Yes. I will."

"Good," Rossi said and then, with a final hard swat that made Hotch yelp, mostly out of surprise, helped Hotch to somewhat awkwardly get back on his feet before gesturing to the armchair opposite the sofa. "Sit down."

Hotch obeyed, not bothering trying to hide his small grimace as he was painfully reminded of what had just transpired.

"So, tell me," Rossi ordered, "What'd you do?"

And despite half wanting to still hold up his façade of unit chief, Hotch lowered his gaze and awkwardly moved his hands together, feeling like he was a rookie called into Rossi's office again. Or, to be entirely honest, a teenager facing his father after disobeying him.

"Well, you know we were interviewing Chester Hardwick," Hotch began, "He managed to get us locked up with him and he was… well, pretty much intending to kill us. I… antagonized him."

"Antagonized him?"

"I challenged him to a fight," Hotch admitted quietly, still intently studying his hands. It had been stupid and careless, and whereas he had already admitted that to himself and beaten himself up about it, admitting it to Rossi was still hard. Because making stupid mistakes ten years ago had been bad enough, and these days he it was completely unacceptable.

"What happened?" Rossi asked, and now there was a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice. Hotch shrugged a little and brought a hand up to rub his neck.

"Reid talked him down. He was… great."

"You tell him that?"

Hotch nodded. "I did. And I apologized."

He wasn't sure why he added the last part; possibly an attempt to stave off some of the older man's disapproval, prove to him that he already knew that he was in the wrong and that there was no need for lectures. Or punishment.

"Why'd you do it?" Rossi asked. Hotch sighed.

"I'm angry," he confessed, "Haley wanted me to sign the divorce papers uncontested and I did. But I still… I love her, Dave."

His voice broke over the last sentence and to his embarrassment tears began prickling at the back of his eyelids. Emotional talks had never been his strong point and the loss of Haley was still to new and raw to be able to talk about it, except the practicalities.

"Hell, Hotch… I'm sorry."

Hotch smiled wryly and dipped his head in some sort of thanks for the sympathy. "It's just… I love her."

He wanted to say more, really; tell Rossi how unfair it was, how much it hurt and how much he just wanted for Rossi to make it all better. But whatever pride he still had left prevented him from that, so instead he settled for hoping that Rossi would understand anyway.

"Look, Aaron… I don't think there's anything I can say to make it better. And I get that it hurts like hell and that you're angry at the world for doing this to you. But you can't let anger define you, Aaron. You understand that, right?"

"I do," Hotch replied quietly, careful not to meet the older man's gaze, wary of the disapproval he'd see there, "and I'm sorry. I just… wanted to beat someone up. And get beaten up."

"The latter mostly, if I know you," Rossi said, a hint of amusement coloring his voice. Hotch had to admit that he was probably right. As much as he wanted to think that he would get satisfaction from punching the smug face of some murderer, he knew that even if he did it would be very fleeting and be replaced by guilt and shame within moments. But the adrenaline from a proper, drawn-out fight where he got punched at least a few times would be satisfying.

"All right," Rossi interrupted his thoughts after a moment, and now there was no amusement in his voice; only sternness. "Come here."

Hotch's eyes widened as his head snapped up to look at Rossi, trying to gauge whether his mentor meant what Hotch thought he did. Rossi's determined face and steely glint in the eyes confirmed that he most likely did.

"But you already… you already spanked me," Hotch protested, giving Rossi his best wide-eyed, innocent look. Rossi snorted.

"That was to get your attention. This is punishment. Don't make me repeat myself, Aaron."

Hotch immediately scrambled out of his seat and over to the older man, because he certainly wasn't stupid and whereas antagonizing UnSubs was one thing, antagonizing his mentor was another completely.

"This isn't necessary," he offered weakly, standing in front of Rossi, feeling about ten years old. Rossi just raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical.

"Not really up to you to decide, is it?" he asked rhetorically and the calm, almost pedagogical tone of his voice made Hotch blush slightly. Because this shouldn't be a completely normal occurrence that Rossi could talk about as if discussing the weather.

Out of moves, Hotch compliantly let himself be lowered over the older man's lap, noticing that this time Rossi tightened his arm around his waist to keep him snugly pressed against his body. Hotch was just hoping that didn't mean that he thought he would have to restrain Hotch.

This time the first swat didn't come as a surprise, but on his already stinging backside it was quite painful, especially since Rossi was swatting harder than before. A few more swats rained down in quick succession before Rossi began speaking, his voice once again back to being stern, as it always was when he was interrogating Hotch about his misdemeanors.

"So, tell me what you're being punished for."

Hotch considered, trying to organize his thoughts in spite of the steady increase of the pain in his behind. Not that he didn't know what he'd done wrong, he was in fact all too aware of it; it was phrasing it in a good way that was the problem.

"I antagonized the UnSub," he replied, with pleasure noting that his voice didn't sound too strained, "I put Reid in danger. I put myself in danger."

He hoped that that would be enough for the older man to understand that he truly did see what he'd done wrong, because talking while he was in this position wasn't exactly ideal.

Luckily, it seemed that Rossi did think he understood, because he didn't keep prompting or begin lecturing; just delivered brisk swats at a quick pace. And before long Hotch was concentrating hard just on trying to stay still; stopping his body from trying to wriggle away from Rossi's infallible aim or his foot from kicking against the couch. Each swat built on the already considerable heat in his backside.

"You don't get to endanger yourself or anyone else, Aaron," Rossi finally said after what seemed like ages, "You know better than to let your anger rule your behavior. It isn't happening again. Got it?"

Hotch nodded. "Got it," he confirmed, blinking to stop the annoying tears from escaping.

"And tell me why I get to do this?"

Drawing a ragged breath, Hotch tried to get his voice under control long enough to answer Rossi without his voice breaking. Because as much as he trusted and respected his mentor, FBI agents with over a decade's field experience shouldn't be crying over a simple spanking.

"Because…" Hotch began, trying to keep his voice steady but as he realized just what he would have to vocalize it broke, his throat constricting and the tears in his eyes finally spilling over. He hadn't really doubted Rossi's commitment to him in years; after trying his hardest to test it in every way he could think of and ending up with no worse consequences than spankings and lectures it was difficult to doubt that Rossi really meant what he said about caring about Hotch.

But that didn't mean that voicing it didn't still bring up a lot of unwanted emotions. Despite being a profiler he found himself unable to identify them, knowing only that they made him want to cry and curl up. Preferably close to Rossi, but that he wasn't about to admit explicitly even to himself.

"Aaron?" Rossi prompted him sternly, breaking him away from his thoughts, "I'd like an answer."

"Because…" Hotch tried again, knowing that Rossi could keep this up for a long time, "Because you… you c-care about me."

"Yes, I do," Rossi confirmed and now his tone was just completely sincere, "I care too much to let you get away with things. You mess up, you answer to me."

"I understand, Dave. And I'm sorry."

Rossi seemed to take this entirely genuine apology as his cue to stop, again just resting his hand lightly on Hotch's thigh. For half a minute or so Hotch remained over his lap, just breathing deeply to get his composure back. This had by no means been the worst spanking he'd received from Rossi, but the unexpectedness of it and the sudden reminder of the older man's place in his life made it more difficult to bottle up the emotions he didn't want.

"Come on, now," Rossi then said encouragingly as he helped Hotch to get back on his feet, and Hotch couldn't really muster up the indignation he should feel at his coaxing, gentle tone that would have been better suited to a small child.

Before he quite had time to prepare for it, Rossi had risen as well and Hotch was pulled into a tight hug, the familiarity of his head resting against Rossi's shoulder soothing him a little. Because if the comfort was the same, he supposed that maybe he could live with the punishment being the same as years ago.

"I'm proud of you, Aaron," Rossi muttered quietly into his ear. Hotch couldn't help the small pleased smile that appeared on his lips, genuinely happy at the praise. Because he had to admit that there had been a vague feeling of fear that Rossi would lose the respect he had for him after feeling the need to reprimand him.

"Dave..?" he said quietly after a while longer of enjoying the comfort Rossi's warm hand on his neck gave him and pulled away, "Does this… change things?"

"What do you mean?"

Hotch shrugged slightly, averting his eyes and uncomfortably rubbing his neck. "I mean… I _am_ team leader, you know. I'm not saying you were in the wrong here, I'm just… Will this affect the team's ability to function?"

Rossi smiled wryly, raising an eyebrow. "Are you asking if I will still take orders from you?"

"Well… yes," Hotch confirmed, a touch of heat in his cheeks. In a way he wished he didn't really have to ask this, wanted to know that his position as Rossi's boss was secure. But on the other hand, he wanted to be sure that Rossi didn't resent him for being in charge.

"I will, Hotch. Like you said, you _are_ team leader and you're a damn good one at that. But you're also… well, my kid, in a way, and I'm still responsible for you. That's not gonna change."

Hotch blushed, not sure if it was from pleasure at the praise or the implication that he needed someone to be responsible for him. Or maybe from the awkwardness of the whole situation; neither he nor Rossi were particularly comfortable with expressing emotions verbally. To be entirely honest, Hotch wasn't comfortable expression emotion in any way, but Rossi at least had no problem with physical displays of affection.

"Can I ask you something, Dave?" Hotch said after a moment. "If I hadn't argued, would you still have… you know?"

Rossi tilted his head. "Honestly?" he asked, smiling wryly, "Probably not."

With a wry smile of his own, Hotch crossed his arms and nodded, sighing. He had almost guessed as much.

"Look on it as a lesson for the future. Now you know what happens if you do something stupid."

Hotch blushed slightly, but nodded. He supposed it was better, in a way, that he found out that Rossi was still willing to something like this after doing something just a little stupid, instead of something very stupid. He wasn't sure he could have handled the shock of a harder spanking.

"You should go to bed now," Rossi said after a moment and even though it was phrased as a suggestion the tone left no doubt that it was an order, so Hotch only nodded and after Rossi gave his shoulder a final squeeze he headed for the bathroom.

Freshening up was nice; he had always hated the gritty feeling left in his eyes after crying. He had a vague feeling that he should be more upset than he was; after all, his subordinate had just spanked him, but he couldn't quite bring himself to feel anything but relieved that he apparently had been forgiven completely for his mistake and that thing were okay.

When he entered the guestroom Rossi was waiting for him, with a cup of some steaming beverage in his hands.

He handed it to Hotch, who accepted a bit warily. "What is it?"

"Hot chocolate," Rossi replied and at Hotch's demandingly raised eyebrows he continued, "Comfort food."

"Why do you think I need comfort?" Hotch asked. His only reply was a skeptically raised eyebrow, but that turned out to be enough to cause an uncomfortable heat to creep up his face. "Sorry."

"Sit down," Rossi ordered, gesturing to the bed. Hotch eyed it warily for a while; after all, he had absolutely no wish to be sitting down right now, but decided on obeying. He didn't hide his grimace as his behind made contact with the bed, soft as it was, and Rossi smirked slightly in response before taking a seat next to Hotch.

"I hope you understand why I did this," Rossi said after a moment. Hotch nodded, still studying the liquid in the cup.

"I do," he mumbled, then went silent.

There was another question he wanted to ask Rossi. But it was, or at least could be, sensitive and Hotch didn't want to screw things up right now. Even though he knew he should hate this; letting Rossi take charge and take care of him, he had to admit that he liked the familiarity of it.

And the question he wanted to ask might disturb that.

Was Rossi resentful about being reprimanded by Hotch? Hotch had felt extremely uncomfortable correcting his old mentor, but it had been necessary. The team and the job came first. But the question was whether Rossi was okay with this; whether he could live with Hotch correcting him again in the future.

"What're you thinking?" Rossi asked suddenly, and Hotch's lips drew into a smile at this reminder of just how good a profiler the older man was.

"I have a question," he admitted. Rossi shrugged.

"Okay. Ask it."

Hotch bit his lip, hesitating, before he plunged on. He confronted UnSubs regularly, so surely he could ask an uncomfortable question without major problems?

"I'm your boss," he began slowly, "That means… that… Well, I'm responsible for my team and for our ability to get the job done. I can't negotiate that, Dave."

Rossi nodded. "I get that, Hotch. But what are you really asking?"

Drawing a deep breath, Hotch continue. "You said you're okay with taking orders and you're obviously adjusting to being part of a team. But… you're not perfect."

After that Hotch trailed off, not knowing how to continue and to be entirely honest, hoping that Rossi would get what he was trying to say without him actually having to say it.

"Are you asking if I'm okay with being yelled at?" Rossi asked, a note of amusement in his voice. Hotch nodded, refusing to look at the other man despite the lack of anger in his voice. "Well, I won't pretend I like it and it certainly sucks for my ego, but yeah, I'm okay with it. Like you said, Aaron, you are my boss. And part of what makes you a great unit chief is that you don't compromise your principles."

More relieved than he wanted to admit, Hotch let out a breath and smiled slightly. "I'm glad. I… it doesn't mean that I respect you any less. You're still the most experienced agent on the team and you're… well, older. I understand that it must be difficult to have you protégé as a boss."

"I prefer to think of it as having the best damn agent the BAU has ever had as my boss," Rossi retorted, the smirk audible in his voice.

Hotch blushed, but refused to feel the pride he wanted to, instead smiling wryly and turning to look sideways at Hotch. "I'm not the best agent the BAU has ever had," he protested, honestly, "You and Jason are legends, Reid is a genius and JJ is just… I don't know, amazing."

Rossi shrugged. "And you're an excellent profiler, a great shot, compassionate and professional. Face it, kid; you're that good."

Hotch's blush deepened, and he averted his gaze; once again staring intently at the hot chocolate. "You're a better profiler. You can't argue that; you invented it, Dave. You do it on instinct in a way I never can."

For a moment Rossi was quiet, probably considering his words, and then he shrugged again. "All right, that might be true. But you _are_ the better agent, Aaron, and you're certainly the better man."

This time Hotch didn't even blush; it was a ridiculous notion. "That's not true."

"Oh yeah, it is. But there's no point arguing about it, I suppose. Drink that now."

Rossi nodded to the half forgotten cup in Hotch's hand, and Hotch obediently took a sip. It was easier than to answer, anyway. At Rossi's prompting look, he drank the rest of the chocolate and handed the cup to him.

"Get some sleep now," Rossi ordered and Hotch obeyed, half grateful that the awkward discussion had ended.

He crept under the covers, Rossi still sitting on the edge of his bed, and pulled them up to his chin. He felt a small blush creeping up his face as he felt Rossi's kind gaze and indulgent smile resting on him. He wasn't a child who should be looked at liked that; adults weren't supposed to be looked at like well-behaved children.

"I'm proud of you, son," Rossi mumbled and leant over to press a soft kiss to his forehead, "and I love you."

Hotch couldn't help smiling. Irrespective of his feelings on being disciplined like a naughty kid, he had to admit that being loved was a nice thing. A very nice thing.

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to **supergirl3684** over at FF.net who prompted me to finish it.


End file.
